The next day, Sam and Blair arrived, receiving the same greeting Melody had—holy water, Borax, and silver. Sam's smile was bigger than Melody and Blair had seen in a very long time. Sam wasn't Sam without Dean.

"So what about Cas, was he there," Sam asked, picking up a slice of pizza. Dean had devoured a box by himself, claiming to have missed the cheesy goodness—regardless, he would've done that anyway.

Dean's gaze dropped from Sam's, to the ground. "Cas didn't make it," he responded, turning away from the group. "Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he...just let go."

It was lost on Melody, the look of remembrance on his face. "So Cas is dead," the brunette asked, clarifying. "You saw him die?"

"I saw enough," Dean answered. "I just can't believe you're actually here." He turned to his brother. "You, what? Drop hunting altogether? Cut half your phones off? I tried calling...texting."

Sam shrugged, glancing over to Blair. "Yeah, you were gone, Cas was gone, Bobby died," he sighed. "Crowley even shipped Meg and Kevin off to parts unknown."

"So you just turn tail on the family business," Dean retorted.

"Nothing says family business quite like the whole family being dead."

The room was quiet for a minute. Dean was fighting off the anger that he unintentionally showcased in front of Melody yesterday. "Did you look for me, Sam?" He didn't need to answer the question—he already knew the answer. "I guess that's good, right? We always told each other not to look for each other. Of course, we always ignored that because our deep, abiding love for each other. But not this time, right Sammy? Did you at least keep all of your phones on hand in case something happened?" Sam shook his head.

Melody frowned at the brothers' conflict, but she knew that some things just needed to be aired out, as did Blair. "Look," Sam sighed. "I'm still the same person, Dean."

"Well bully for you. I'm not." Dean walked upstairs, and all the group could hear was a door slamming when he reached the room.

Melody pursed her lips, at the now awkward silence. "I think you should pull those phones out," she murmured. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

When she cracked the door, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. Melody crouched in front of him, replacing his hands with her own. "Are you okay?"

"No," he answered, shaking his head. "I'm so on edge about everything. I know what hides in the shadows, waiting to catch you when you're weak. I'm pissed that I missed out on a year of my life. I'm pissed that my own brother didn't come and look for me. I'm pissed that everyone can move on and I'm just here."

"I'm here, too."

"Are you? Do you know the number of Djinn in purgatory?" A look of distress was was present on his face. "This might not even be real. This could just be in my head. What if—,"

"Hey, hey," she murmured, stroking his cheek with the pad of her thumb. "This is real. I'm real, okay? Just breathe."

Dean began to visibly calm down with each breath. He really felt like he was losing his mind. Paranoia was constantly setting in, and every time he closed his eyes he was seeing something—anything—attacking him.

It was all the Melody could do not to cry, as she pulled Dean's head to her chest. "I love you, Mel." She couldn't tell if he was crying, but his voice was trembling. "I love you so much. You're gonna get tired of hearing me say it, but I do." It had been a long year without her—a year that he didn't have the chance to make she she knew just how much she meant to him. Everything that happened from the moment they met all those years ago—their dad pawning them off on Bobby, the thunderstorms, the kiss, the promise he'd made her, Bobby's death, the beach—all the way to him getting dragged off to Purgatory with Dick, made him realize just how dull life was without her.

Melody ran her nails across his back, soothingly. "I love you, too," she responded with a quaint smile. "And by the way, I'm not sure I'll ever get tired of hearing it."

Dean took another deep breath, finally calmed. He got to his feet and grabbed Melody's face, kissing her forehead. "Thank you for keeping my head on straight," he said, looking down at her.

"Somebody's got to," she grinned cheekily. "Let's go back downstairs." She nodded towards the door. "And go easy on Sam, yeah? Everyone copes differently, and none of us knew where to start."

He nodded, not arguing with her. There was still a bit of bitterness lingering, but he was trying hard to let it go. Everyone did what they thought was best at the time, so how could he be mad?

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam was standing in front of the refrigerator, looking at the assortment of mostly beer, a couple cartons of milk, some eggs, and plastic casings of individual slices of pie.

There was a box filled with close to a dozen burner phones in it, sitting on the table. Dean sat down at the phones and slipped a pair of headphones in his ears, preparing to listen to the voicemails of the other people Sam neglected during his 'vacation'.

"Is he okay?" Sam murmured to Melody, standing at a safe distance from Dean. "With everything?"

Melody shook her head, keeping her eyes on Dean. "He's not," she said quietly. "He's struggling to separate reality from whatever dreams are haunting him." Sam nodded slowly, in response. "How are the IVF injections going?" She couldn't get a straightforward answer from Blair, but she could see it was taking a bit out of her. Even now, she was laying down with a severe migraine.

"They're going," he sighed. "She won't admit it, but I can see how weak they make her. I think finding out that she can't have kids made her want to have them so much more. Don't get me wrong, I want them too, but I'd much rather have her healthy. Either way, I'm here for her. I just want her to be happy." Melody didn't have a chance to reply, because Dean turned around looking at Sam, pissed. "...what?"

Dean unplugged the headphones from the phone, and played the voicemail on speaker.

"Sam Winchester, it's Kevin Tran. Crowley had me in this warehouse, and I just escaped. I don't know where I am. And I don't know if he, or any other demons are still after me. I need your help. Call me back."

Sam frowned. "When was that?"

Dean answered by playing another voicemail.

"Sam Winchester. It's Kevin Tran. I called you a week ago. Call me, please."

"Okay," Sam said. "I get it. So, what, you wanna strategize or something?"

"Sam, it's Kevin. I'm goooood. Woo! So good. Been three months since you ditched my ass. Haven't slept for more than four hours a night, but it's all good in the hood. Uhh, if you're still alive, eat me."

"Sam. It's been six months. I can only assume you're dead. If not, don't try and reach me. You won't be able to. I won't be calling this number anymore."

Dean got to his feet, glowering at Sam. Melody could see he was trying hard to contain his frustration. "He was our responsibility." His voice was filled with the hostility he was trying to mask, intensified by Dean throwing Sam's phone at his chest. "And you couldn't answer the damn phone." He brushed passed Sam and went to the fridge to get a beer, then returned to the couch he'd been sitting on.

Melody shot Sam an apologetic look as she sat down next to Dean, who was sifting through Melody's journal to see how close she'd gotten to Crowley. "Don't you think you need some rest," she asked him, running her nails up and down his back. "I know you were up most of the night last night."

"I don't need rest, I need to know where this kid is."

"And you're not going to be able to do that if you don't get some rest."

Dean clenched his jaw, but before he could fire back something that would likely ignite a fight, Sam spoke. "Listen to the background of this," he said, playing the last voicemail Kevin sent. He lowered Kevin's voice, increasing the background noise. "I think he was on a bus." Last stop, Centreville. The intercom announced.

Melody turned around, furrowing her eyebrows. "As in Centreville, Michigan? Why would he go to Michigan?" Both her and Dean walked over to where Sam was seated at his computer.

"Because his high school girlfriend goes to college there," he answered. "Best lead we got."

Dean scoffed. "We?"

"Dean." Melody reminded him of their discussion earlier.

Sam nodded, looking at the ground. "You were right. He was our responsibility. So let's go find him."

"First, we're getting some rest," Melody, breaking the tension, looked directly at Dean. "Then we can go, first thing in the morning." Dean was about to argue, but she put her hand up in contempt. "Why don't you go start a shower, hm?" She winked at him, and just as quick as he was to try and object, he was dashing up the stairs, getting what she was hinting at. Melody turned back to Sam, frowning. "He'll get back to normal before we know it, okay? He's just...in a bad spot right now. You know he's gonna bounce back. If he doesn't, you know I'll kick his ass for you."

"You always did," he chuckled, retreating to the room that Blair was in.

Melody bounded upstairs and into the bathroom with Dean. She shimmied out of her clothes quietly, before moving the curtain back. He was facing the opposite direction, letting the water hit his face and flow down. Carefully, she pressed her palm to his back. The unexpected touch mad him stiffen, but he relaxed once he recognized the feeling. Her arms draped around his waist, and her head was leaned against his back.

"I'm sorry I'm a mess," he said quietly. "I'm trying hard to find my new normal."

She kissed his shoulder blade gently, wishing ever so much that she could even slightly understand what he was feeling, or take some of his hurt away. "Don't apologize for something you couldn't control," she told him. "Not one of us would be acting differently if we'd been the one in your place."

Dean turned to face her, looking down at her beauty that was only accented by the beads of water on her skin and her lashes. "Thank you for coming out here. You had every reason not to."

"I had a feeling." Melody shrugged. "Worst case scenario I was kicking some shifter's ass. Best case, I'd get you back. And, well..."

"I'm back." He agreed, trailing his fingers up her back slowly, then back down. This was their first sober shower together. Usually one of them had a few too many—usually Melody—and needed assistance washing up. It always seemed far too intimate to Melody, but now? There was nothing holding her back.

Dean pushed her back a single step, pressing her back against the cool wall. His kiss started at her lips, spreading them slightly with his tongue, then trailing down her neck. He nipped at the soft skin there, sending a sigh falling from her lips. He kissed down her body, paying extra close attention to her chest. He loved every part of her body, but there was something about her breasts that drove him mad with lust.

"Dean," she breathed, gripping at the hair on his head, not-so-discreetly pulling him closer. She'd missed this closeness. It was undoubtedly something she'd only had with one other person years ago, but even that held no comparison to what she felt with Dean. She lifted his face back up to hers, kissing him hungrily. He leaned down to grab just under her backside, and lifted her upwards. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. Quiet groans escaped her lips onto his as he positioned himself. She had to burry her face in his neck to refrain from expressing her enjoyment any louder than she already was. Her nails dug deeper and deeper into his back, making Dean's movements harder and harder in retaliation.

He was still in the process of blowing off steam, but that didn't mean the feeling was any less amazing. "Damn it, Melody," he huffed, struggling to maintain his composure. His fingers dug into her hips as they both got closer and closer to their release.

Melody's breath hitched in her throat as she felt that newly reacquainted warmth rising in her core. She cursed under her breath, feeling herself about to fall over the edge. Dean must have been able to tell too, because his head fell back and a quite loud breathy groan fell from his mouth. He didn't care that he wasn't quiet, he had no desire to stifle his outbursts anytime soon, really. He was back with Melody, and being with her was the best feeling in the world, and not even on a strictly physical level—though, that was pretty amazing too. It wasn't long before Dean's movement slowed to a halt. He still had one hand underneath her, but his other was pressed against the wall, trying to keep them steady. Melody slowly lowered her feet onto the ground, keeping her head pressed to his chest. Neither of them figured it possible to get tired of that feeling of closeness.

The next morning, by the time Melody and Dean descended the stairs, Blair was working on breakfast while Sam was drinking coffee. "Morning," Dean greeted.

"Unfortunately," Sam grumbled.

Melody raised an eyebrow, propping herself on the counter next to where Blair was frying eggs. "What's wrong with you," she asked Sam. "You look like you got hit by a bus."

"If by bus you mean the sound of you two all night, absolutely." He shook his head, taking another swig of his coffee. "I thought y'all wanted to get some rest, but did you even sleep?"

Dean smirked, looking Melody's way. "Oh I slept better last night than I have in an entire year."

"Breakfast is finished," Blair chimed in, diverting the conversation from sex to food. Dean's eyes widened, happily shutting up for bacon.

They all quickly wolfed down their food, determined to get on the road while it was early. When Dean walked outside, he immediately walked over to Baby, whispering sweet nothings to his car. "I swear he's more excited to see that car, than me," Melody scoffed.

Dean looked up at her, smugly. "I've already been inside of you since I've been home," he smirked. "Several times, actually."

"Dean!" The three other hunters exclaimed. The older Winchester could not have cared less as he ducked into the driver's seat, and started her up.

"Mmmm," he groaned.

Melody narrowed her eyes, bending down to look at him. "Do you need a moment alone?"

"Maybe," he joked, as they all piled into the car. "No visible signs of douchery. I'll give ya that, Sammy."

They stopped at a motel for the evening, a little over halfway through their trip. Dean probably could've lasted the entire time driving, but Melody and Blair were groaning in protest at the fact that they had no plan of attack for this situation.

When they got there to the run down motel, it was just before sunset. Dean walked over to the vending machine while they others unloaded their things. When Melody returned, he seemed lost in thought. "You know you want that Kit-Kat." Clearly she'd spooked him when she spoke, because he appeared to nearly jump out of his skin. "What's wrong?" She'd seen the look on his face a few times since his return. Melody knew it was probably some sort of mild case of PTSD. "Everything okay?"

He nodded, though, his face made his declaration slightly unbelievable. He typed in a letter-number combination, and slid the red package of a Kit-Kat from the slot. "Just so many options," he chuckled dryly. He walked inside the only room they had available for the night—maybe stopping in a city wasn't the best idea, but hindsight is twenty-twenty.

Melody showered while Blair ran into town for some takeout, so Sam and Dean were in the room alone. Dean appeared to be having another moment, but Sam noticed it this time. Each time a horn would honk outside, or a car would drive across the overpass a mile away, his eyes would dart. "You good?" He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Dean appeared rather antsy.

"Uh, yeah," the older brother nodded. "Why don't we just blow this joint and hit the road? Kevin's not getting anymore found with us just sitting here."

Sam chuckled. "The kid survived a year without us," he noted. "I think he'll be okay for another twelve hours."

To no surprise of Sam's, his words brought up yet another fight. He wasn't bothered by it, though. Dean clearly had to get some stuff off of his chest, and he wouldn't do all it in front of Melody. "Is that how you rationalize taking the last year off," Dean asked him, narrowing his eyes. "People will be okay?"

The younger Winchester ran a hand through his hair. "People were okay, Dean," he sighed. "You're okay. I did what we promised we'd do. I moved on. I lived my life. It's not like I was just oblivious—I read the paper every day.  I saw the weird stories of the kind of stuff we used to chase."

"And you said, what? 'Not my problem'," Dean scoffed, dropping his gaze from his brother.

"Yes," Sam said, catching Dean by surprise. "And you know what? The world went on. People are always gonna die, no matter what. The point is, for the first time, I realized that it wasn't only up to me to stop it."

Dean got up from where he'd been sitting on the bed, and pulled out the bottle of whiskey he'd brought along from the cabin. "So was it Blair," he mused, twisting the cap. "Was that what made you just stop just like that?"

"It wasn't just about Blair, Dean," he huffed, growing agitated. "She got out of the life for me. She decided she wanted a real job, so she got one. Then, when we talked one night, we realized we both wanted kids, so we tried. For a good six months with absolutely no luck, so we talked to doctors who all said the same thing—she'd probably never have kids. And just that look of defeat she had? It made me realize that I'll do whatever in life to make her happy. This is something I've never had, in my entire life." He clasped his hands together, hating the silence between them. "What about you? I mean, you're shaky, you're on edge...what was it like?"

Dean pursed his lips, turning to face the opposite way of his brother, letting his face fall a bit. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he scoffed, messing with a coin he'd found.

"Try me."

Dean remained silent for a moment, and Sam almost thought he wasn't going to speak. "It was bloody. Messy. Thirty-one flavors of bottom-dwelling nasties," he sighed. "Hell, most days felt like 360-degree combat. But there was something about being there...felt pure." He seemed distant again, as though he were recalling his time spent there. "As crazy as it sounds."

Before he could continue, Melody was walking out of the bathroom, with her hair in a bun. "Glad to see you two didn't kill each other." She grinned, looking towards the door. "B isn't back yet?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes lingering on his brother for a moment longer. "She should be back soon." Dean didn't speak—in fact, he was quiet for most of the rest of the night. Melody didn't push it much though, as he was at least not tearing at his brother's throat. She could only hope that once they found Kevin, things would slowly rotate back to normal. The only question was, what normal.